


(de)liberation

by elfloversanonymous (asexuelf)



Series: Femdom Pussy Indulgence [7]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Anal Sex, Blue Hawke (Dragon Age), Butt Plugs, Cock Cages, Consensual Kink, Consensual Slavehood, Coping, Dom/sub, Elf/Elf Relationship(s), Elf/Human Relationship(s), Emetophilia, F/M, Female-Led Relationship(s), Femdom, Fenris (Dragon Age) Being an Idiot, Forced Bathing, Karl Thekla Lives, Masochism, Master/Slave, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Denial, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Pegging, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Service Submission, Sexual Slavery, Sick Fenris, Slavery, Spanking, Sub Fenris (Dragon Age), Tags at the beginning of each chapter, Total Power Exchange, Under-negotiated Kink, Verbal Humiliation, Warden Bethany Hawke, is that.... is that a tag, ruined orgasm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-01-27 04:38:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21386224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asexuelf/pseuds/elfloversanonymous
Summary: After years of trying and failing to adapt to a life of freedom, Fenris considers a new kind of slavery.
Relationships: Fenris (Dragon Age)/Original Female Character(s), Fenris/Aveline Vallen, Fenris/Bethany Hawke, Fenris/Female Hawke, Fenris/Isabela, Fenris/Merrill, Fenris/Orana (Dragon Age)
Series: Femdom Pussy Indulgence [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1550845
Comments: 12
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introduction. A prologue, of sorts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please do not comment about this being problematic. this is an exploration of the therapeutic uses of kink, a celebration of female-led relationships and female dominance, and also pornography. if there is ever anything that is not explicitly stated as being consensual, or if any negotiations you believe should be present feel absent, just assume it's been discussed off-screen or will be brought up later.
> 
> that said, hope you like women, buttsex, and pussy-eatin'. enjoy!

This waiting is nerve-wracking. Every second seems to tick by slower than the last, making each minute a veritable eternity.

_ Perhaps this was a bad idea_, he thinks for the thousandth time since sitting down. Maybe he should have kept it to himself and waited for something to change.

But, no - he knows this was the right choice. He's done his waiting; sitting alone in his room and waiting for something to feel different, standing alone in line at the marketplace and waiting for something to feel different, fighting through hordes of slavers alone and waiting for something to feel different…

He can wait a little while longer.

And how understandable it is that the girls have kept him waiting. This is… a large weight he's placing on their shoulders, a big decision he's placed into their hands. His mouth twitches with some small amusement. It's rather like getting a dog; a big responsibility.

They'll be responsible, in part, for his wellness - just as he, in return, hopes to take on the responsibilities of making their lives as convenient and decadent as it can be in their station. He loves these women, has known them for years and sees them as family, and he wants to show that love now in a way that can benefit them all.

So he waits yet longer. He parks his bottom in the uncomfortable wooden chair and waits for one of the women to descend the Hanged Man's stairs and tell him their decision.

And finally, she does; they send the witch, with her pretty dark braids that the firelight casts its shadows on and her wide, forest-green eyes.

"Fenris," Merrill says. "We've decided. We all want to tell you together, so come on up the stairs, will you?"

He stands to follow, trying and failing to hide the shake of his hands. If she says no - if they all do - then he doesn't want her feeling guilty. He won't make this a hostage situation. He told them what he needed and why and if their needs are different, then so be it. He will find another way.

But Merrill notices. Those wide green eyes are far more perceptive than she lets on.

As they walk, she turns to him and smiles. "I know this must be very anxiety-inducing. You've trusted us with something very private. That can be so scary." She reaches out and grabs his hand kindly. "Don't worry, you won't be disappointed. Oh- I've just given it away, haven't I?"

Merrill rambles a bit more, apologizes and asks him not to tell the others, but he just grins at her. His face won't do anything else and he can't find the mind to force it to stop.

"You'll have me?" he breathes.

That stops Merrill short. She stares up at him with sad, shocked eyes. "Of course! We all care for you, Fenris. We want the best for you. And it's not like this won't be good for the rest of us, too." As if giddy at the thought, she stops to giggle behind her hand before suddenly straightening. "Oh! My first order as your- whatever we'll call it: _ Don't tell the others I told you! _ Pretend to be surprised!"

Ducking his head, Fenris chuckles, but the sound quickly turns into proper laughter. It's like all the tension has melted away, leaving all of the energy behind, and now it's bubbling out of him. If the sound is more manic than is acceptable, Merrill says nothing.

"I would for you, but… as I said in my initial request, I will never lie. To any of you." He catches Merrill's eye meaningfully. "Even at the behest of another."

Merrill huffs. "What about surprise parties?"

Fenris' heart is suddenly and painfully full. "Except for maybe about surprise parties." And then, fool that he is, he lets his fondness pull him forward to kiss her.

It's a relatively chaste kiss, closed-mouthed and quick to end, but it still catches them a _ woo! _ from a drunk nearby. When Fenris pulls away, he almost flinches at how cool Merrill's eyes have gone.

"That was very brave of you," she says, and it doesn't sound like a compliment. "But you won't be doing things like that without my offering first, understood?"

Shell-shocked by the sudden change in her demeanor, Fenris can only nod quickly.

"I think you should go up the stairs so we can talk to the other ladies now."

With that, Fenris follows his first real order as her slave. He takes those stairs two at a time and, when she catches up to him, stares at her feet and not her eyes. 

This seems to please her greatly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! 💖 lmk if you have any ideas. i doubt the readership for this is going to be terribly large, but i'm always happy to receive a comment


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Intro: part two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little transition to further introduce the set up

So far, everything is perfect.

All the ladies own him in their own ways;

Hawke is… well, _ Hawke_. She's gentle but surprisingly unyielding, always asking him tenderly what it is he wants or needs and taking her own pleasure from him unflinchingly. Mostly she has him clean, free labor to take the weight off of Bodahn and Sandal. It's a job he'd never had before Kirkwall. It took him a while to become proficient at it, but once he did, he felt… _ good_. He's found something meditative in scrubbing floors for her and is grateful. For her, he is grateful.

Bethany is scarce, being a Warden, but in those rare times where she can visit her sister, she has great fun with Fenris. She seems to see it all as a big and wonderful game and always smiles brightly when she's loaned him for any amount of time. Normally she just goes about pinching and teasing him, showing him a sadistic side of her that he never would have imagined, but she's also incredibly affectionate. He's almost like a toy to her - a doll to torment and hold - and it makes her visits a treat for him as well.

Aveline is exactly what he expected she would be. Commanding but fair. Serious and severe about disciplining him in all ways, like he hoped she would be. She rewards him as well as punishes him, but seems content to keep his responsibilities to caring for his own health than her own. Being married, she doesn't take much from him sexually, but did once bring him into her and Donnic's bed. That had been exciting, to say the least. And embarrassing, too. Despite the men in their company knowing about the women's… _ arrangement _ with him, at least in part, none had seen it quite so closely as Donnic.

Isabela is surprisingly uncertain in her ownership of him, but Fenris knows she has her own demons to battle when it comes to freedom. Mostly they're friends just as they were before, easy and playful, but now she fucks him whenever she wants to. Occasionally, she'll even send him on an errand, shoo him out to go pick up a drink from downstairs or a hat from a shop she visited or dangerous information from a dead drop. Mostly she just has him rub her feet while they gossip. It suits them just fine, and Fenris is happy.

Merrill shocks Fenris the most. She is… hard to explain. _ Cruel _ and _ harsh _ are good words, Fenris thinks, until they aren't. She doesn't hurt him to hurt him and she doesn't punish him to punish him. She's simply the one that treats him the most as her slave. He wouldn't have expected it to be Merrill who takes control of him so readily and so _ expertly_, but here she is, earning her title of _ Domina _ so well that he sometimes slips and calls her that to others. She takes her pleasure from him and gives him almost none in return, demands he do her bidding and kicks him if he does it wrong, uses him as furniture more than the dog he expected to be… He's the one that braids her hair and paints her nails now, but he's also the one that takes her lashings and kneels for her to sit. He loves every moment.

With every single one of them, he loves every moment. 

_ Finally_, he thinks, _ I am free. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! 💖


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merrill/Fenris; pegging, cock cages, orgasm denial, buttplugs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first porny bit is with merrill because i love her ;w;

Fenris is with Merrill now, as he often is on a weekday evening, and he's struggling to keep quiet under her order. He's bent nearly in half, knees closer to his ears than is comfortable, and he's holding onto the bedsheets for dear life as she skewers him with the large glass phallus she's "trying out".

Fire burns through his blood, making his head swim. He feels as if he is on the pyre with Andraste, being punished for crimes he cannot make claim to - at the moment, he's simply too busy biting the inside of his mouth and praying to remember them. Did he make Domina angry? The time when he could have wondered at such a question has long since passed.

He reaches out to his Domina, desperate for relief, but she slaps his hands away.

"Grab the headboard," she snaps. 

Her hips don't slow. Fenris can tell from the pace, from the lines in her forehead and loose line of her mouth, that she's close. The short end that goes into her must be hitting her just right, because although she is usually quiet, a hold-over from years of living in outdoor camps, she's crying out now, moaning low and steadily. 

Fenris can admit to being envious. The cock seems almost magnetically opposed to the spot inside him that makes stars appear behind his eyelids, skimming his prostate only enough to let him know what he's missing. Merrill is either chasing her orgasm in a perfect way to avoid his own _ naturally _ or she is secretly an evil mastermind. At this point, it could go either way.

But then, that wouldn't matter much in the end anyways, would it? Even if Merrill was pulling his hair and fucking against his prostate with every hard thrust, it wouldn't make a difference. His cock is locked away in one of those fancy metal cages Hawke spent her noblewoman money on. Not only does it keep him from growing hard, but it has a ring around him to keep him from any kind of orgasm at all.

_ Just in case_, Merrill has said. At the time, Fenris had loved the little contraption, grown breathless just at the sight and feel of the cold, glinting metal, but now, it's the bane of his existence. He wants it destroyed, thrown into a pyre and left to melt into nothing just like he is. When this is over, and he is no longer in agony, it will be a different story - it always is - but for now, he wants the blighted thing _ gone_.

He whines out, "_Domina_," hoping that Merrill will hear him and have mercy, will grace him with a touch or even a kiss, but receives only her nails digging painfully into the flesh of his thighs.

She pushes his legs further back and apart and he cries out at the new angle and at the stretch. The cock drives deeper now, thick and bruising, and seems to have lost even a slight interest in his prostate. It must be magic; no other thing could cause a glass cock this large to leave him so unstimulated.

"_Please,_" he begs again, but this time, she pulls his nipple harshly. He cries out again, unable to squirm away.

"I said be _ quiet_-" But she can't quite finish her admonishment, because suddenly she's there, thrusts becoming short and shaky as she grinds out her orgasm. "Oh, Creators-!"

She drags her red nails down his abdomen as she trembles, her eyes shut tight and mouth open in a choked cry. He flinches, whining out at the pain, at the pleasure, but she pays him no mind.

When she's finished, she falls splayed across him like a starfish, allowing his legs to fall around her. All he knows for long moments after is the feeling of her hot breath against his chest, the occasional twitch of her hips, and the pain of his caged cock squished under her. He doesn't move his hands from the headboard because she didn't say he could.

It's quiet for a while. Domina's breasts are warm against him where they're sandwiched between her and him. For long moments, he evens his breathing, wincing at the weight on his cock, and wonders if she's going to move. If not for his sake, than for her own; he can't imagine lying on her tits like that is very comfortable.

Right when Fenris thinks for certain that Merrill has fallen asleep and won't be pulling out until morning (and wouldn't that be something, trying to work a dry dildo out of his behind in the early hours?), she rises and begins to remove the dildo. She carefully undresses her harness, slides the cock out, and wipes them off well enough to put them away. When she's digging in the box she keeps their play things, Fenris shivers at the feeling of fucked-out emptiness, focus drawn to the way his ass gapes and twitches, and hopes desperately that she'll remove his cage. Instead, she returns with a buttplug.

The thing is blue and pretty and has a gem on the end. It's also cold when it enters him and too small to do much plugging after the large glass monster that stretched him so wide, but Merrill smiles at the sight of his hole trying to close around it. Her fingers poke at the entrance, playing with the twitchy skin, as if testing that it will stay.

It seems to please her and she gifts him a kiss before laying across him and wishing him good night.

"I love you, Domina," he chances.

She sighs contentedly and he can feel her smile against him. "I love you, too, Fenris."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! 💖


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris/Aveline, Fenris/Merrill: Servitude, panties, cock cages, buttplugs, verbal degradation, spanking, handjobs, and crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one ended up so much longer than i expected it to o_O also i think aveline is the most in-character here, which is a new one for me

Fenris likes when the ladies talk business. He likes kneeling before them or between them as they talk and quietly serving them tea. He likes the prep work of it too; there's something relaxing in the simple act of putting together a tray of fruit.

Sometimes it's difficult, he'll admit that. It can be a challenge to keep his mouth shut when Merrill discusses magic with Hawke or when he wants to join in on the witty banter. The hardest part is staying still - luckily, his owners are patient with him and don't mind him fussing a bit for now.

_ Training is hard, _ Hawke had told him as Merrill nodded beside her. _ Not least for how long it will take. Don't bite off too much all at once. _

The memory makes Fenris smile.

For now, he does what he can: slices apples and pears to go with one of the gentler teas that Merrill likes. As much as he'd like to prepare them a full meal, his cooking studies are progressing embarrassingly slowly. Still, he makes himself useful, preparing each woman's tea exactly how they like it. Aveline prefers it as is, maybe a bit of sugar or milk depending on the blend, but Merrill always takes hers with honey, even with mild teas.

He considers asking Merrill if she'd like some honey for the fruit, too, but he can hear the murmur of voices in the other room. He doesn't want to bother them. It's not his place to interrupt. It's hard, but he tells himself again: _ It's not my place to interrupt. _ He can try to remember to ask her later, when she isn't busy with more important things.

Feeling good about it, Fenris grabs the tray and walks out to the sitting area, where Merrill and Aveline are talking quietly. Aveline seems unsure, agitated perhaps, but Merrill looks confident and beseeching. Once upon a time, he might have thought the scene backwards, their personalities swapped, but now he knows then now better than before. Distantly, he wonders what they're talking about. That isn't his place either, so he shakes it away.

He puts the tray on the low table between them, gently to keep it from clattering, but when he kneels, Aveline puts up a hand to stop him.

"Remain standing," she orders. He does.

He looks between them again. Aveline's voice was clear but she still projects anxiety - he's known her too long and too well not to see through her brave face. On the chair beside hers, Merrill is holding something and very obviously wants to keep it hidden from him.

He tries to avoid looking at it, be obedient, but he's always been too curious for his own good. Again, he wonders what exactly they were talking about. This time, that wonder is laced with worry.

Unmoved by whatever confusion is on his face, Merrill turns to him, folding her hands further over the hidden thing she's holding. "Hello, slave. Strip for us."

"Yes, Domina."

Fenris is quickly nude, knowing better than to take too long after last time. Merrill doesn't much like to punish - she expects and rewards obedience with any pain she dishes out being just for fun - but that doesn't mean she won't. His dark-bruised ass had been a reminder of that each time he sat down the week before.

Merrill performs a quick inspection. "Cock cage on, good boy." She tugs gently at the warm metal. "And all clean, aren't you?"

Keeping the cage clean is more trouble than it's worth in his opinion - but, he tells himself again, his opinion doesn't matter here. If Merrill tells him to spit-shine the cage twenty times a day then he will.

"Yes, Domina, I am. And I-" He cuts himself off and swallows.

"Fenris, continue. 'And you'-?"

"I- I did the enema. Like you showed me. I had to take my plug out, but it's back in now, Domina. And I didn't play with it."

Merrill turns him, pushes a hand against the small of his back to make him bend. "I see. Good boy, Fenris." Every muscle in his body relaxes. "I always like when he comes back from your house, Aveline. He's always still got my accessories on him."

"Not like I have much need for those things." Though he's facing away, he can feel Aveline's shrug. "I mostly just use him a footstool."

Merrill takes him by the arm and turns him again, pulls him upright. "As you ought to," she says, still to Aveline, even as she stares up at Fenris. Unable to fight himself, he meets her gaze, but she doesn't seem upset. Mostly pleased. "But he's good for decoration, too, did you know? You can dress him up however you like! Oh, it's quite fun. Let me show you."

And then she stands - and the thing in her hands is no longer hidden. They're panties. Her own, if Fenris recognizes them correctly, designed to cover her front and not much else. Is she going to gag him? It wouldn't be the first time she gagged him with her panties.

She doesn't gag him. She opens up the panties for him to step into. "Put them on, pet. You can even hold on to me for balance."

Fenris is silent. He can feel his face growing hot. Those aren't going to fit. "But, Merrill-"

"Stupid boy," she snaps. "When I want something, you'll give it to me. Now put them on."

He's silent for a beat too long. Merrill's eyes flash and he flinches. "Y-Yes, Domina. I'm sorry." 

Even from the corner of his vision, he can see that Aveline's eyes are wide and shocked as she blinks at Merrill. Her eyes turn back to her slave, however, when Fenris steps into the panties.

They're purple-ish, closer to a wine-like maroon than a lavender or plum, and though Merrill manages to get them over his hips, they don't fit very well. His cage definitely doesn't help, creating a jagged shape beneath the too-tight fabric - but, without it, he knows his cock would be peeking out of the top and leaking terribly through the likely expensive fabric. Though, at this rate, the panties will probably be wet soon regardless.

"Oh, Maker," says Aveline. Fenris feels rather the same. "I didn't actually think this would affect me."

"There's something very special about boys in pretty things," Merrill agrees. "It can catch a lady off guard."

Aveline nods. Her eyes are glued to Fenris' crotch. A part of him thrills and the rest wants to sink through the floor. _ A slave has no shame_, he tells himself. Then, in Merrill's voice, _ A woman shouldn't have to ask. _

Steeling himself, Fenris spreads his legs a little to give them a better view. He stares at the floor and doesn't think about his wants or needs. Just Merrill and Aveline.

With an appreciative pat to his flank, Merrill murmurs, "Good boy."

"Have him turn around, would you? I want to see the rest."

"He's yours to command too, Aveline," his Domina teases. But she keeps her hand on him as he turns again, as if being certain the command is followed.

It's somehow better and worse when Fenris is facing away. He's glad they can't see his crotch, no longer so shamefully embarrassed, but now every instinct he has is telling him his ass is in danger.

And he's right. He doesn't have time to do his mental exercise - _ her ass, not yours. her cock, not yours. her pleasure, not yours. _\- before a hand slaps his ass meanly. A noise escapes him and he swallows hard around it. Merrill doesn't like him making sounds without permission.

That seems to be the least of Merrill's worries - or Aveline's, either. Behind him, he hears them whisper, so low that even his sharp ears can't hear it.

Again, Fenris swallows.

"Aveline, my friend," Merrill's voice is somewhat theatrical, amused and clear for Fenris to hear her. "Would you mind taking our slave over your knee? I fear letting him get away with backtalk will give him bad ideas."

"Of course, Merrill," Aveline is a little more stilted, but she sounds excited. Somewhat breathless. Anxious, still. "No use in keeping a bad dog."

Fenris gives a full-body shiver.

"_Merrill_-" Aveline hisses.

"_Trust me!_" Merrill whispers back.

Merrill grabs a handful of his- _ her _ panties and uses them to turn him roughly. He's standing very close to her, and though he is standing and she is sitting, Fenris can feel the power she has over him. He feels small. She doesn't pay him much mind, instead turning to Aveline with a somewhat expectant smile.

Aveline mutters something like, "_Ridiculous _" but reaches forward to grab Fenris as well, this time by the arm so tightly it smarts. She uses her warrior strength to pull him around the low tea table and over her knee. And then, without warning, she begins her onslaught.

The first spank always shocks Fenris, even when he's expecting it - and this time, he isn't. He jolts forward and gasps, a ragged sound escaping him before he can stop it. He turns to Merrill, _ can I make noise? am I being good?_, but she's smiling.

"Feel free to scream if you need to," she says pleasantly.

Aveline brings down another cruel hand - two, three, four times - and doesn't stop, filling the room with the familiar rhythm of a beating. She's always cold and efficient when she spanks him and now is no different. When Merrill spanks him, she gets distracted by the pretty colors that bloom up on his bum. When Hawke spanks him, she has him count, tell her what he did wrong, kisses his tears away. When Isabela spanks him, it's only because she's fucking his ass and likes the way it jiggles. But when Aveline spanks him… 

When Aveline spanks him, it's to teach a lesson and make damn sure it isn't forgotten.

He hears Merrill murmur something, but can't hear it over the flesh-on-flesh claps filling the room or his own stilted cries. He's treated almost immediately after to a burst of staccato hits, each one sending a shock through his body, shaking the cock cage and pushing the plug inside him into a terrible and wonderful friction, and all he can do is whine through it as the heat grows and grows and grows. He feels like he's on fire. The stick and slide of Merrill's panties against his ass feels amazing. Aveline doesn't stop spanking him.

He can't wiggle away, Aveline's arm over his back is too strong, but he drops his head to muffle his moans into her calf. He bites one of the ties on her pants as the cage catches against her other leg. It hurts and it hurts beautifully but he doesn't know how to take it all at once.

A hand fists painfully into his hair and drags his head back. "Don't hide your pretty noises, _ lethallin_. It's so rare I get to hear my whore squealing."

"Y-Yes, Domi-na."

Fenris doesn't cry, has always had a hard time crying, but if Aveline doesn't let up soon, he might. The tight line Merrill is making of his neck makes it harder to breathe and the pull of his hair makes his eyes water.

"Please," he chokes, and blessedly, Aveline stops. Some absurd part of him almost wishes she hadn't.

She's short of breath, panting above him. Likely her arm is tired too. "Alright, Merrill. I think that's all I can do for now."

"You know bending at his every plea won't do you any favors in the long run." But she doesn't sound angry. She sounds pleased and out of breath too. "Think you can stand, Fenris?"

It takes a moment for Fenris to realize he's being spoken to. Every point of his body is throbbing, most noticeably his ass. His cock is straining painfully in its cage.

"Will you take off my cage, please?" Fenris tries to stand, but can't quite will himself away from Aveline's comfortable lap. She's so warm. So strong. "I want to- I want to cum, please."

Out of his line of sight, Merrill huffs. "Don't give me that look, Aveline! I'm not a monster." She sniffs then. Fenris can imagine the adorable wriggle of her nose. "And he is cute. Such good manners… Definitely makes me think he's learned his lesson."

Even feeling boneless and brainless, he recognizes the quiet jangle of Merrill's key. He nearly concusses himself with Aveline's left boob scrambling to present for unlocking. Aveline catches him before he can fall into a heap on the floor.

Delighted, Merrill laughs. "Oh, it hasn't been that long, surely!"

"Two weeks?" Aveline guesses.

"A little over by about a day or two. Usually Isabela takes him out but I managed to convince her to keep him locked this time." A mournful sigh passes. "I _ had _ hoped to keep him longer… Luckily for you, Fenris, good boys get rewarded."

Merrill has to pull his panties down to unlock the cage, but once it's off and he's gasping at the sudden, painful relief, she pulls them back up just a little. Like tucking a toy doll into a bed.

Then, she lifts her hand as if to reach for him - and isn't that enough to make Fenris' head spin. She isn't even touching him and already, he feels like the world beneath him is ascending to a greater plane. 

"Oh, sorry-" Merrill stops her hand a hair's breadth away from Fenris' cock and he whines. Every piece of him aches at the absence of her touch. "Would you care to do the honor, Aveline?"

Aveline tightens her arms around his chest. To keep him somewhat upright as he lays all his weight backward against her, but also just to hold him. He knows her well.

"Absolutely not," she says.

"Fair enough!"

And then Merrill's touching him - _ really _ touching his cock, not just poking him through the cage or torturing him with the plug or laughing at the way she can make it jump just by wiggling her fingers near it - and her face is so close and she's smiling so happily and Aveline's arms are so strong-

Not even two full strokes and Fenris can't hold on any longer, little white stars clouding his vision as he cums. His entire body convulses with it; Merrill puts a hand on his hip to hold him and strokes him all the way through it. He doesn't realize he's crying until it's over, doesn't realize he's been shooting spend all over himself until he tries to open an eye and finds his eyelid heavy with a warm, wet weight.

"'Sank h'you." He can barely move his mouth. Tears fall faster and he shakes with them. "Thank you, thank you-"

Aveline holds him tightly to her. "Shh, shh," She's never very good at holding and gentling after, but she does her best. One of her legs props itself beneath him to give more support. "You're alright, Fenris. You did very well."

"Yes, that was beautiful." Merrill kisses one of his sloppy, dirty cheeks, and he nearly howls. He's unworthy of her, but she kisses him anyways. "Our good, good boy. And you'll behave even better from now on, won't you?"

"Yes, Domine, thank you!" He can't seem to stop crying now. Everything feels so big and so bright. "Thank you-!"

Aveline tries hushing him more, rocking him a little, but it just makes him dizzier. He's hiccuping and sobbing and everything feels so good. Everything is so good.

"I'm going to get a wet rag and a blanket, I think."

"Good idea. I don't want this drying on my arms."

"Oh no, of course not! Terribly yucky. Talk to him in the meantime, would you? Poor thing needs it right now."

Beneath him, he feels Aveline freeze. "...Talk?"

But Merrill has likely already scampered away, as she is like to do.

Fenris sniffles and misses her.

"Oh, now…" Aveline sighs, her anxiety returning. He can feel it in the tense lines against his skin. "I'm terrible with crying. Why don't you talk to me instead, Fenris? Tell me what's wrong."

He attempts a shuddering breath. "Nothing. I f-feel good."

"...Is this happy crying? I'm a little better at happy crying."

Aveline isn't very good at jokes, but it lands, and Fenris laughs. He leans his head all the way back to feel the strength of her shoulders, the soft swell of her chest. "I'm so happy. Thank you." Another sob shakes him. "I don't deserve you."

"Oh- Don't start with that garbage. I hate all that _ I don't deserve you _ crap. Donnic tries it sometimes." She huffs. "If I could spank him for it, I think I would."

That makes Fenris laugh wetly again. "Why don't you?"

Aveline laughs too and the sound is beautiful. "Maybe one day. Depends how much he deserves it."

It's then that Merrill returns with a warm rag to wipe all the quickly-drying spunk off of him. When she gets to his face, she grins.

"So talented!" she says, making Fenris laugh. Her hand is gentle but firm as she wipes his own ejaculate from off his eye and nose and cheek."We should enter you into competitions."

"I'm not sure competitions for that exist, Domine."

She blinks widely at him. "Nonsense!"

When they're all clean, Merrill helps Aveline pull Fenris further into her lap, then slides in next to her to cuddle with them both. They're a tangle of limbs, with Aveline at the bottom of the snuggle pile.

Aveline sighs in a way that suggests she does not enjoy being stuffed into a little armchair with two elves. "Shouldn't we take this to the bed? Some of us have work soon and I _ don't _want a crick in my neck."

Merrill insists this chair is far too nice to hurt anyone's neck and it starts them bickering. The sound is so honest and familiar that, even though he hasn't been told he can, Fenris finds himself smiling, closing his eyes, and falling into a very restful sleep.

His ass is going to smart in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! 💖 let me know if there's any kinks/scenerios you'd like to see explored


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris/Isabela: Blowjobs, ruined orgasm, very light ball torture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i might add a second part to this scene where hawke shows up 🤔 but i figured i'd post this part as is just in case i ended up not wanting to write that akdjskd
> 
> sorry for any grammatical issues and i hope you enjoy!

Isabela is proficient in the art of sucking cock - but she's probably one of the few people in all of Thedas that can perform fellatio like it's a threat. Fenris is both terrified and impressed.

Every time his hips try to buck, her teeth just barely scrape him, almost sensual in their sharp drag over his most sensitive areas like she's making some macabre promise. When he lifts his head to watch her, unable to keep himself from looking, her eyes find his, glinting dangerously when he reaches unconsciously to rest a hand on her head. Through it all, she's completely unmoved by his begging and pleading and grateful muttering, focusing instead on getting what she wants - whether Fenris likes it or not. 

She discussed it with him beforehand. 

"I'm not asking permission," she'd said, almost smugly. "The best part of this whole arrangement is that I don't have to do that. Makes a girl feel powerful." 

She'd laughed at the disappointed slant of his mouth, poked his belly and told him to be grateful he's getting anything at all. After all, if she were Merrill, he'd be spending the whole night locked up as she had her fun. Instead, because Isabela is so very giving and gracious, as soon as Fenris is close, she'll pull away and let him have his orgasm.

Fenris knows what's coming ( - him, and miserably), but he still holds out hope. After all, Isabela _ did _ remove Merrill's cage and _ is _ letting him cum. That's a very, very good thing, and it's a gift he's been given, not a right he is entitled to. It's not his place to argue if Isabela wants to watch him cry out in frustration.

Still… That doesn't mean he can't pout about it.

Isabela focuses on the head of his cock, sucking and rubbing her tongue along the underside and over the slit. She's using one hand to pinch and pull the skin of his balls meanly enough to make him start begging in earnest, moreso when that hand gentles and rolls his balls almost tenderly. She repeats the hand movements, over and over, pushing him to orgasm just to pull him back. When his babbling finally lulls and all he can do is moan, she uses the opportunity to slide a finger into his mouth. He rolls his tongue over it obediently as he whines.

"_Bleathe_," Isabela removes her finger with a slap to his face. It's just a tiny smack to his jaw, but he keens anyways. He can feel an amused puff of air from her nose, feel the may she fights a smile around him. "Please, Bela, I need, I'm- Agh, that _hurts! Mendico,_ _futuis, placui- quilebius!"_

Isabela pulls away to laugh, heedless of Fenris' high-pitched sounds and uncomfortable grunts as she continues to worm her finger inside him. 

"I'm sorry, pet," she says, not sounding sorry at all. Without her mouth, the stretch of the finger is even more unbearable. "I don't speak Tevene."

"I'm begging you to please fuck me. Please."

That makes Isabela laugh again. She ducks her head close to his cock but doesn't put her mouth back on him, seemingly content to watch. She smiles and does not falter with the mostly-dry finger, working in and out of him, searching. It pulls at the walls around it, spitty enough to be sticky and not much else. Even as it wants to soften, his cock twitches instead.

It gently taps Isabela's cheek, bringing forth more laughter, this time with a far greater undertone of mocking. "Oh, poor thing! I guess even I can feel pity sometimes." And then she's leaving long, lathing licks along the underside, her breathy huffs of amusement teasing his sensitive flesh.

"Please-"

"Fenris, don't you know better by now that begging does nothing for you?"

"You seem to enjoy it," he sasses, right at the moment that Isabela finally finds his prostate. 

He yelps and spreads his legs further, expecting her finger to pull out, but instead it works his prostate efficiently at the same time she sucks his cock down again. She's everywhere, swallowing him down and filling him up. For a moment, he feels that his begging has worked, and she'll let him cum, let it really feel good, and she does-

But the moment he starts, she pulls away entirely. No finger, no hand, no mouth. When he reaches down on reflex to stroke himself through it, she grabs his wrists and holds them together in front of herself. She pins his thighs beneath her knees to keep him from bucking. All he can do is cry out helplessly as his cock leaks onto his stomach.

"_Futui, futui, futui, futui-!_ _Venhedis!_ Please!"

"Oh, wow," Isabela ignores him completely, except for where she watches his member ooze and twitch desperately. "That's beautiful, Fenris, really. Think if I bring Hawke in, you can do this a second time? She has to see this!"

Aching and tense and still in the middle of a thoroughly ruined orgasm, Fenris can hardly find the strength to answer. "Yes," he forces out. "If it will make you h-appy, Bela."

Isabela's smile is bright and enthralled. The room is filled with her laughter. As Fenris shudders beneath her, he basks in it. If this is the price of that kind of unrestrained joy on her face, then it is more than worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> futui, if i got my latin correct, should mean "fuck (penetrate) me!", but if not... then it does in tevene. i don't remember what the other words mean, but i think context clues should work :T if not, latin-dictionary.net is a great site i love to use
> 
> thanks for reading! 💖


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merrill/Fenris, Hawke/Fenris; service submission, mild emetophilia (no actual vomit), a bit of negotiation. No porn in this one. 
> 
> Also featuring Karl, who isn't dead because I said so. Fuck da rulez.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everyone in my house was sick as a dog on thanksgiving which means i wrote most of this while feeling like garbage warmed over so sorry if none of it makes sense put together 😅 hopefully its coherent
> 
> also please excuse my very minimal knowledge of lungs. they live in a world where magic exists so they dont need to know about croup and asthma and crap, so assume my errors are products of thedas. free lore.
> 
> edit: removed mention of orana for timeline reasons. this is pre-hadriana encounter and post-deep roads.
> 
> (may 14th 2020) edit: added a bit to the ending to make it fit better with the next chapter.
> 
> enjoy!

It starts with a tickle.

He's in Hawke's estate, quietly scrubbing dirt and newly-spun web from a corner so Sandal doesn't have to when it begins to bother him. He clears his throat to fight the tickle, again when it doesn't work, a third time in hopes it will stop growing. It ends with him burying his face into his elbow and coughing until he's wheezing.

_ It's just dust, _ he tells himself, and shakes his head. His stomach roils from the effort of coughing and his chest feels sore in a way that's claustrophobic.

_ It's just dust. _

*

It doesn't get much better from then on, but he blames the changing weather.

Pollen count is much higher in the Spring months, he remembers, so it must be that. Just his body getting used to all the allergens in the air again - and, he further explains to himself, becoming accustomed to all the dust and dirt he's been scrubbing at lately. Yes, that's all. And if not that, then Hawke's new soap.

That's it. Nothing more.

_ Mind over matter, _ he tells himself, and shakes his head. No, that's not right - it's _ matter _ over matter, because the fact of the matter is he is _ not _ ill.

He holds the platter quietly, willing his hands still. The teapot on it trembles and the little lid that doesn't quite fit the ceramic sugar bowl rings out as it shakes. He takes a deep breath and places the saucer down on the table, despite Hawke's direction to hold it.

"Fenris?" she asks. She sounds concerned.

When he looks at her, nestled up next to Merrill on Merrill's little loveseat, he sees they're both concerned. He doesn't disobey. Hesitates, still, sometimes, but he does his best not to go against orders.

"I am well." He doesn't feel like he's lying. He _ is _ well; he must be. "I'm a little lightheaded at the moment."

Hawke shoots him a bewildered look. "Well, are you well or lightheaded? Which is it?"

His face grows hot. "I'm well, and will be even better when the dizzy spell passes. My apologies."

Hawke seems unconvinced but eventually nods to herself. "Alright. Why don't you take a seat?"

Uncharacteristically quiet, Merrill quickly stands and gestures to her own seat. With a small bow - and while clenching his teeth to ignore the wave of nausea - he accepts the seat, his naked thigh pressed against Hawke's clothed one.

Merrill sits next to him, a cool hand on his clammy back. "Oh dear," she exclaims. "Lethallin, you're burning up!"

Hawke puts a hand to his forehead, just to the left of his lyrium. "Oh my… Yes, you're a bit warmer than usual, Fenris." She shifts to face him better, her blue eyes intense where they bore into his. "Do you want to see Anders?"

"No!" He clears his throat, swallowing hard to keep himself from coughing (or worse). "No, thank you. I will be well shortly."

Hawke raises an eyebrow. "...If you're sure."

Fenris can't thank her. His mouth has begun to fill with saliva, a tell-tale warning of something much worse to come. They've told him to sit, and it isn't yet an emergency, so he doesn't go running to the chamber pot just yet.

Merrill's cool hand presses gently against his belly. "You're looking a little green, Fenris. Are you sure you're alright? I've got a remedy for queasiness if you need one."

Her hand begins kneading little circles, pressing hard enough to make him fight a gag even while the cold feel of her flesh soothes him. He can't answer, too busy clenching his jaw.

"Fenris?" Her voice is challenging suddenly, small and dangerous. She presses harder against his stomach. "Are you well or aren't you?"

He swallows hard. He nods. He has to.

There's no other answer he can accept.

Merrill sighs and removes her hand. While Hawke chastises her for hurting his belly, Fenris leans back against the loveseat and breathes deeply. He focuses on the smell of the tea, on the scent of Hawke's sweat, and waits for the feeling to pass. When Merrill's hand finds his stomach again, this time to rub gently, the wait becomes much easier.

He waits like that, eyes closed and listening to the white noise of their friendly chatter, until Hawke is ready to leave for the night.

In hindsight, he probably should have just gone to the clinic.

*

He can't breathe.

It wakes him horribly, pulling him out of a nightmare that clings and clings and clings. Everything is so cold. He feels like he's burning. He can't breathe.

Fenris doesn't get sick. He doesn't fall ill, or grow weak, or feel his limbs shake and skull somehow shrink. He doesn't catch anything, ever, no matter what. After the last time… He made a promise to himself never to allow that kind of weakness to befall him again.

But as soon as he wakes, he knows: somehow, someway, his body has failed him. The promise is broken. He's trying not to panic, forcing himself to breath as shallow as his lungs are allowing. It burns - a cold, tight, horrible burn. His hands and feet feel similarly, so cold he can barely feel them at all.

He doesn't panic. His body is trying to panic, but he doesn't let it; he lets the fear slowly bring him to his feet to go find help. He's been getting better at that, he thinks. Better at reaching for those that care.

Luckily he's not in his own bed tonight, because as he stands, the world explodes into horrible noise. Ringing, ringing, ringing - what's pushing on his skull? Why has the world begun to spin so quickly, so violently?

Suddenly there's something flat and comforting beneath his back. It knocks the air out of him, but he almost doesn't notice.

*

A hand is on his face. It's holding open his eye. Everything is blurry and unfocused and he doesn't like it.

"Fenris? _ Fenris?" _

"...Am I underwater?"

He doesn't recognize his own voice. Unlike the other voice, however, his doesn't sound like he's ears-deep in the stormy waves along the Wounded Coast, so he considers his question answered.

"No, Fenris, you're in my clinic. Hawke brought you here." Ah. It's only Anders. Fenris opens his eyes to see him but finds them blurry. "You were, um, a bit underdressed, but Hawke believed you were in critical condition, so you're in my bed at the moment."

Fenris breathes in to speak and falls into a coughing fit. It feels like his entire body is on fire, yet also freezing. His stomach contracts and he nearly loses what little must be in his gut.

"And _ that _ is why you're here. I haven't been able to find the exact cause yet," He sounds annoyed about it. "But your body is fighting against something very fiercely. That or this is just from the oxygen deprivation: I'm thinking you're also struggling with gossamer lung or similar. I'll be keeping you here to be sure regardless."

Fenris has no idea what he's talking about. "I want to leave," he can barely say. It comes out a grainy breeze, only air and not but a choked sound behind it.

"I know." Anders pats his shoulder. The touch is comforting, somehow. "But you'll be best off here until I can treat the issue."

Fenris has half a mind to complain, maybe even throw a fit, but all he can do is close his eyes and fall back into dreamless sleep.

*

When Fenris wakes again, he's far more lucid. His chest no longer rattles with each breath, though it does ache with deep ones, and his head feels much less like a Qunari is standing on it. He feels too warm and too tired, but he can also see Merrill sitting on a rickety chair nearby, and that makes it all okay.

"Merrill," he says. It comes out whispery and weak, but strong enough to carry.

She stands immediately, heedless of the book that slides off her lap, and comes to his side. "Oh, Fenris! You had me so worried… I should have known to take hand of you when you were at my house!" 

She hovers, looking like she wants nothing more than to smother him in kisses, but she holds back, keeps her hands tucked together as if physically keeping herself from touching him.

The realization strikes. "You shouldn't be here," he says. "I'm ill."

"That's _ why _ I'm here! Anders says it shouldn't be catching, Hawke had a clean bill of health and he thinks he knows what it is- but, even if it were contagious, I'd still be here. I should have been here with you sooner."

He tries to sit up to look at her properly, but the world spins.

"Oh, shh, none of that…" She seems to find her confidence, pushing him back down to lie on a familiar pillow. It smells like her hair. "I'd spank you for lying about something as important as your health, but I rather think you're paying for it now as is. Such is the nature of things."

That makes him smile. "Did you…" He almost laughs, but settles for shaking his head to avoid another coughing fit.

"Fenris?"

"Did you bring this here? This pillow?"

He gets to watch her face grow red, her vallaslin popping against the sweet pink flooding her cheeks. "Yes. It's probably stupid, but I want you to be comfortable. Well, not all the time. I like when you're uncomfortable. You know that." She's becoming more and more agitated, growing faster the longer she goes on. "But I don't want you to be unwell- I care very much for you, even when I'm mean, because being mean is fun and you've told me I can be and I haven't had very much- Erm, anyways, I brought you the pillow because it seems to be the one you favor at my home and I didn't want to mess with your things. Giving yourself to me doesn't give me free reign with your property! ...Does it?"

Fenris blinks, feeling a bit behind. "Yes. Or- No? Whichever is the right answer."

She giggles behind her hand. "Glad we're on the same page then."

"Merrill- Domina," he reaches out for her hand dangling by the bed. "Thank you."

The way she melts at the words - Fenris feels like he's won a lottery. "Of course, pet." She leans in and indulges herself with a kiss to his forehead. "If you're mine, that means I take care of you. Even when you're being pig-headed and won't take care of yourself."

Fenris smiles wider. Even though it's unlikely his condition has improved at all in the last ten minutes, he feels suddenly strong and healthy.

"Hawke has been here too," she goes on almost absentmindedly, tangling her fingers with his. "And Isabela and Aveline, but Hawke is the one who brought you here. Three nights ago you fell right out of her bed. Pale as a ghost, she told me!"

"Where is she now? I'd like to apologize for frightening her. It was never my intention."

Merrill huffs, indignant. "I hardly imagine she thinks it was. But if it will make you feel better, I'll let her know to come see you soon as she can. She's with Bethany now - just found time between Warden business to stop back home, she has."

Guilt washes over Fenris. "I ought to be taking care of things at the estate."

"Absolutely not." Merrill shakes her head. "You are _ sick, _ Fenris. You ought to be taking care of yourself right now - which means letting me and Anders and Karl fuss over you."

Fenris pulls a face. "Karl?"

"Well, yes. He lives with Anders, remember? The two are so in love!" She squeals and brings her fists (one still clutching his hand) up to her chest. "Isn't their story so romantic? I've never actually seen them outside of card nights - and even that's rare, you know, since Karl doesn't like going out anyways."

Fenris sighs. "Because of the mark on his forehead or the spirit possessing him?"

If Merrill notices his venom, she elects to ignore it. "Probably both," she says, looking away thoughtfully. "I might ask him. Maybe we can invite him over more if I know what he likes and doesn't."

Fenris sighs again, but can't bring himself to be too perturbed. His hatred for mages was leached quickly from him the moment he began contemplating giving the entirety of himself to one. 

It Merrill, the bloodmage, can be worthy of his heart and body and soul, then doesn't that stand to reason that Karl, the Tranquil-turned-abomination, is worthy of at least his respect? The man stays in this rathole with his husband (a man he cannot legally wed), healing the poor for free, when he _ could _ be using that power for much, much worse. Karl is a good man - although, despite Fenris' wavering friendship with Anders, he can't help but judge Karl for his taste in men.

Then again, Fenris regularly allows a stinky pirate to stick her fingers in his butt, so maybe the leg he's standing on is weaker than he thought.

What is that thing Isabela tells him? _ Everybody shits and everybody has shit. _He feels it applies here.

Merrill breaches the comfortable silence. "I ought to tell our healer you're awake. Will you be alright alone?"

"Yes, Domina."

She leaves him with a kiss, but not before saying, "Oh! Remind me to talk to you about that."

He doesn't know what she's referring to, but he mentally takes note to ask soon as they're alone again.

For now, all he can do is lie back and sigh as he waits for Anders to fuss over him. The man's bedside manner is terrible, but he's efficient. If there's anything Fenris can appreciate, it's efficiency.

*

A day later and Anders is still largely inconclusive about what's infected Fenris, but he says it so conclusively that Fenris feels in good hands (and good health) anyways.

"You _ were _ in very ill health, but I believe the reason you fainted was due to an anxiety attack," he says first. "It's a bit like battle sickness, but they can happen without trauma."

Fenris tries to argue, says he wasn't afraid, he'd only just woken from his lack of breath, but Anders shakes his head.

"You told me you woke from a nightmare. And even then, you don't need to be scared either to have an anxiety attack. Plus if you were fighting an infection and your body was remembering what it was like to be sick as a slave, it might have panicked. And you did have an infection - a tricky one, but luckily I am an incredible healer, so it was very easy to do away with. The leftover difficulties breathing are from gossamer lung, I think. Croup. That or you're asthmatic. Both tend to fall under gossamer lung."

Fenris stares blankly.

"Gossamer lung - or asthma, as some healers know it as - is a sort of… incurable disease? An injury of the lungs? There isn't a lot of conclusive information yet. I won't go into the hefty details, but it causes difficulties breathing. It's usually early onset, but I've seen it happen suddenly in adults, too." He turns and calls to Karl to bring him something, shouting in that way people do when they're familiar with each other. "He'll be bringing us a treatment for gossamer lung. You've got to boil it - not too hot! - and breathe in the vapor. Waft, preferably, though you can risk a bit of wet lung in an emergency. Just not too much."

Fenris feels a bit behind; is gossamer lung the infection or is it something else? And what is croup? But he accepts the odd vials of clear liquid that Anders hands him and tries to remember his instructions. He looks up somewhat helplessly to meet Merrill's eyes, who is standing in the doorway, and almost immediately relaxes. Her face is stone, taking in every word Anders says as she stares at him, and it reminds Fenris that it _ is _both ways. He takes care of her, but she cares for him, too. They're precious to each other.

He takes note to dust her bookshelf as soon as he's able, maybe find if there's any books she's still looking for and find them for her. And redo her nailpolish. After all her work on the Eluvian, her polish is getting chippy again, and he knows that drives her up the wall. She prefers an even, glossy coat.

When Anders deems him fit to leave, Merrill holds his hand and tells him to thank the healer. Face hot, he does - but it's a genuine thanks. Fenris has been ill probably three times in his remembered life and it has never been good. This time, though, Anders put him in his own bed and even explained what sickness he had been felled by. It was more than Fenris could ever remember being given outside of his relationships with the girls.

"Thank you," he says again as he walks out the door.

He can't say for certain, but he thinks Anders looks pleased. He can only hope the man feels appreciated.

*

They're back at Merrill's home, letting the Hawke sisters enjoy an evening together, when he remembers.

"Domina?" He doesn't look away from his task, well into the rhythm of painting her nails by now, having finished both hands and a foot already.

"Yes, Fenris?"

"You told me at the clinic to remind you to talk to me about something, but you never said what." He gently rubs away a bit of polish from her skin. "Do you remember what it was?"

"Oh!" Her hands lift from the armrests, fingers splayed to keep from mussing the paint. "Yes, I wanted to talk to you more about our relationship. Really we should talk about it with everyone, but I didn't want you to feel ambushed. And with you keeping your sickness from us, from _ me... _" She trails off, looking perturbed.

Surprised out of his task, Fenris blinks widely. Outside of the occasional checking in, they haven't really done any talking or negotiating since that first night. Not with Merrill, anyhow. 'Bela told him she was busy, that she was working on the cursed Eluvian of hers, but now he wonders how true that was...

Had it been that big a deal? He'd been terribly sick, sure, and it was even his own fault, but Merrill promised he won't be punished for falling ill… 

"What is there to talk about?"

Merrill scratches her head with the heel of her hand. "Well, we've been having a lot of fun and I've been trying to test your limits, but we haven't spoken a lot about the future. That first night, we all said we'd try, but we didn't really discuss what we'd want passed all that trying."

Fenris nods, feeling suddenly anxious. He's still breathing okay, thankfully, but his heart is pumping rapidly. He goes back to painting Merrill's toes for lack of a better distraction. "What do you want, Domina?"

"Well, I'd like this to go on much longer. I care for you." That soothes Fenris somewhat. Perhaps even if everything else fell away, he would still have Merrill. His Domina. "But… Well, we'll talk about the rest of all that later. For now, I just wanted you to know that the other women and I are all looking into the future a bit. It seemed unfair to keep you out of the loop." Her voice becomes hard. "It isn't fair to keep people out of the loop.

Face growing hot with shame, Fenris nods. His heart still pumps unevenly in his chest.

"Be honest with me, Fenris." He looks up and meets her eyes, warm and green like a forest floor after rain. "What do you want?"

"...This. I want this to continue." He looks down at her feet. His face is hot. "I only wish to belong to you."

Merrill gives a happy sigh, tension relaxing from her as if she too can feel her heartbeat thunderous in her throat. "I want that too. You're going to have to put a lot more trust in me if this is to continue, you understand. Don't you?"

Fenris bites the inside of his mouth to keep from saying anything nasty. He doesn't understand the sudden snarling thing that rises in him, so he ignores it.

"Yes, Domina, I understand."

"Good." She leans back in her chair, looking only a little less than content. "I love you."

"I love you too." The snarling thing lies back down, sated, and he blows on her toes to dry the polish quicker. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: whatever you do, dont write plot. just let this one be pwp.  
plot: hey bitch  
me: FUCK-
> 
> thanks for reading akdjsk i've got more planned and more written so hopefully i'll get updates out regularly enough. more than my serious works, at least.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after Fenris' dismissal from the clinic and before his conversation with Merrill. Previous chapter has been updated slightly for timeline.
> 
> Aveline/Fenris; bathing, man-handling, a bit of impact play. Emphasis on Master/slave - Owner/object.  
Hawke/Fenris; mostly fluff. Light kink negotiation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been 42,069 years, but i rise again. this is just a little transition chapter while i work on the porny bits of the next chapter - which should hopefully include both bethany and her sister!
> 
> enjoy~

The days after his illness fades are some of the best of his life, and he isn't ashamed to say so. The ladies spoil him, burying him in kisses and gifts and orgasms. He's hand fed and hand bathed and receives few punishments more than forbidden sweets and a couple of swats to his bum. Only once does Hawke get so upset with him that she meanly pinches his balls, and even then, just the feeling off her hand on him had him spreading his legs and smiling through the pain. All in all, he feels a bit more like a pampered pet than a servant - especially considering the absence of his loved-hated cage.

Still, there's a strict emphasis on  _ ownership _ in this master-pet dynamic the ladies have taken with him, and for all the pleasure it means for him, he'll admit that he's got… mixed feelings.

"Ouch!" 

The scrubbing brush digs hard into the lyrium swirling at his hip, making him shout in pain, and he tries desperately to squirm out of the warrior's harsh grip. Her knuckles are bone-white at their place at his bicep, squeezing tighter and tighter as he struggles to run away.

"Aveline-  _ arghck!  _ Mistress!"

Aveline huffs, as incredulous as she is annoyed. "No getting mouthy with me. You need to be washed, Fenris, whether you like it or not."

"I am capable of washing myself!" He nearly squeals when the brush finds his crotch. She isn't any gentler there. "Please! I'm no longer ill! I do  _ not _ need a sponge bath!" If one can even call such violation a  _ sponge bath. _

The huff is uglier this time, joined by a mean snort. "You expect me to believe that, do you?" Her hand falls to her side, the other still vice-tight around his arm. He's just glad the brush isn't scratching him anymore.

He swallows. "Y...Yes?" 

Anders and Karl had both confirmed it - he's a little weak, still recovering, but other than that, it's a clean bill of health for him. His weight is even back to normal - and he has an awful time keeping weight on. Between Aveline and Hawke's frequent Ferelden stews and Isabela's gifts of sweet breads and candied fruit, he may even become a little heavier than he was before he fell ill.

Aveline is shaking her head, strands of ginger hair falling out of her low bun. "After all that time you spent lying to us, lying to  _ yourself _ -" She clenches her teeth, nostrils flaring. He can see her chewing the inside of her cheek, even as she relaxes. "You cannot  _ truly _ expect me to trust you to take care of your own health? If the game is right, then you're my property, Fenris, and I expect my property to be in tip-top shape."

She raises the scrub-brush again, the bristles shining like firelight glinting off a knife. He gulps. "I- I understand. B-But, Mistress-!" He flinches harshly when the brush finds his stomach and scrubs and scrubs and  _ scrubs _ . " _ Aaiie _ ! Could you not be more gentle?"

It makes his cheeks burn to see her eyes roll, but her movements are certainly gentler. It's not a  _ pleasurable  _ bath, but it's largely painless, even calming. Aveline's hands are so strong, muscular and sure in their intent. Whether they're weilding a belt or rubbing healing balm into his lyrium tattoos, they never waver. He envies her certainty sometimes.

She helps him step out of the bath before toweling him off thoroughly. The towel is soft, one of the expensive things Leandra frequently indulges in, and barely irritates his markings. When Aveline reaches to dry between his legs, he moans, and it earns him a fine swat to his rear end, but that only make him moan louder. 

Finally, with a sigh, Aveline snaps him with the towel and orders him out of the bathroom.

"Into the bed!" she says, loud and firm. Her  _ guard captain's _ voice. He tingles at the sound, from sole to scalp. "I need to get ready to go back to work, but Hawke will be with you the rest of the night. Join her.  _ Now. _ "

Fenris gives an attempt at a bow, but she only uses it to aim another snap at his nipple. "Eek! Thank you, Aveline. I'll be-"  _ Snap! _ "-going!"

He flees the bathing room and to the stairs, glad for the late hour and the near empty estate. The only bedroom even remotely near Hawke's bed and bath is Leandra's. With his red ass shining and his cock flying in the wind, taking the stairs two at a time would be much more humiliating if he didn't know that - and that she likes an early bedtime.

Worried, suddenly, that Leandra will wake for a glass of water (or worse, Bodahn or his son), he books it to Hawke's room as quietly as he knows how. He stops at the door and looks around nervously… A relieved sigh slips out of him. No one is here but him and behind the door, his lady.

The bedroom door isn't locked, just closed, so he's careful to open it quietly just in case his over-long bath brought sleep to Hawke's eyes. But it hasn't - she's upright at her desk, still in her finery, trudging through replies he knows she doesn't want to send. Hawke hates letters, but she always seems to be receiving them.

"My lessons are improving," he says, making her jump. "It's within your rights if you want to leave those for your slave to agonize over."

Her face goes red, blotchy with blush. "I- There's no need to- Don't be silly." Ah, she does hate to see him behave so slavishly - at least vocally. But her stuttering shame only makes him smile. Merrill would be disappointed in his behavior.

"I'm only teasing." He leaves the door closed behind him, slowly walking towards her, his stride playful. Well, playful for  _ him _ . "Though, I do hope to reach a point where I can take your errands from you."

She exhales, half an awkward smile hanging onto her face. Her blue eyes are sparkling, but noticeably tired. "I've barely any errands. These are just letters from Athenril's old crew. She and I- we keep in touch, you know."

"In case you need anything smuggled?" He's made it to her side now and makes a point of standing as close to her as possible. If she's affected by the press of his soft cock against her side or his bare arms around her shoulders, she makes no show of it. "Would Isabela not be sufficient in the task? Or myself, as your slave?"

Tensing up again, Hawke sighs. "Oh, must you call yourself that? I hate to think of our…  _ arrangement _ so callously. It seems-"

"Alluring?"

She scoffs. " _ Insensitive. _ Though, with you being the one who was once a slave and not myself, I'm not sure why  _ I'm _ so offended."

That makes him smile. He leans down to kiss her cheek, her jaw, her neck.

"Fenris…"

"Apologies. I only-" He only... what, exactly? He isn't sure what he planned to say or if he planned to say anything at all. "You're beautiful. And kind. If it makes you uncomfortable to call me your slave, that's alright."

"I- You're.  _ Ough… _ " She sighs again, noticeably frustrated. "Does it not offend you? Frighten you?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Why would it?" This is so much different than Tevinter.  _ Slave  _ does not even hold the same meaning. "I come and go as I please and I have a harem of women who beat me and use me as  _ they _ please. I could not be happier."

A breath punches its way out of her and then she's laughing. "Alright," she says in a gasp. "Understood. But- I'm still a little uncomfortable thinking of myself as your  _ master. _ "

"Merrill isn't." They share a moment of amusement, grinning together. "What would you have me call you, then? What would you call me?"

"You're… Well, you're my submissive!"

Fenris cocks his head to the side. "And you? Are you my  _ Domina _ ?"

The candlelight does nothing to hide the red blush on her face. "Well, if Merrill doesn't mind two of the same. You can always just call me Marian, of course." Her eyes find the ground and stay there. "I'm your Marian, if you'll have me."

Fenris grins. It could split his face, the smile is so wide. "I already have." And this time, when he leans down, he presses their mouths together, just to kiss.

They kiss for too long in that uncomfortable position and when they both pull away to straighten, it's with a shared wince.

"Ack," complains Hawke. Marian. "Well, to the bed then. You still need rest! After all that hubbub, I'm not going to listen to another lecture from Karl. How Anders could marry such a boring man is beyond me."

A retort is heavy on his tongue, something pithy with which to defend their dear friend Karl's honor, but he's made the mistake of crawling onto her bed. It's so much larger than the awful bunk bed she used to have at Gamlen's - it's a plush, expensive mattress, and the minute his head hits the pillow, all hopes of banter are gone. He's asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading 💖


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